Chapter Twenty-Four
She had to laugh. Completely inappropriate and absolutely at the worst possible time, Hermione couldn't stop the nervous giggle from coming out of her mouth. Not usually the sort to burst into hysterical, uncomfortable laughter at awkward, stressful moments, she found she just couldn't help it. Maybe she was losing her mind after the insanity of the previous few hours. Or maybe she hit her head harder than she realized when Silas knocked her down. It hadn't been long since she had her last concussion. Another one could've just exacerbated the damage from the first one.
Of course it was entirely possible that in the potential last few moments of her life she could see an odd sort of dark humor about the whole affair. Laughing was at least better than breaking down in a sobbing, blubbering mess. She'd always assumed that was how she would go. Considering the amount of crying she did growing up, it wasn't an unreasonable assumption. When she feared Bellatrix would end her, she cried until she couldn't cry another drop. This felt entirely different.
No matter what happened when her faceless enemy made it to the end of the stairs she knew one thing without question. If she somehow managed to survive the encounter, she was selling her house. In the course of only about six weeks, she'd come to loathe the home she once loved. Any previous happy memory she had in the home was forever tarnished by the violence it had seen in such a short time. The act of completely ruining her love for her home was possibly one of the most painful aspects of the whole ordeal. No one should ever mess with another person's home. Stripping away their ability to feel safe was wrong on a deeper level.
The immense relief she felt at being able to send off the parcels may have led to the laughing. Once more in control of herself, she was very glad she'd been able to send them off without complications. If she'd waited for morning, it was likely she would've been too late. She might be dead by morning. At least she wouldn't die in vain. The story would get out. The poor werewolves who were tortured, murdered, controlled, and who knew what else would get their vengeance. No longer would they remain forgotten. If it cost her life, that was a sacrifice Hermione was willing to make.
As her heart pounded and she could feel the intruder getting closer to the bottom of the stairs, she knew she needed help. Pride was a Gryffindor's worst attribute. Not only did it render many of them terribly unlikable, it could also lead to their deaths. History was riddled with foolish, noble deaths. The high percentage of the ones coming from her House wasn't a cause for celebration. Being the first in something wasn't always positive. Only one person remained in her life that she knew she could rely on. With Fenrir stuck in Scotland in his transformed state, she was low on options.
Casting a patronus was much easier than she expected it would be. Even though it had been years since she last had need to cast the nearly impossible spell, she didn't have a moment's struggle. Expecting to see her old otter swimming through the air, she had to laugh again when she saw the new form. A massive four-legged creature shot out the end of her wand. There wasn't time to consider the implications of why her otter was replaced with a wolf-like shape. Hopefully, she would survive long enough to analyze all of the possibilities at a later, safer date.
Because she felt such relief that the story of 'Operation Moonlight' wouldn't die with her, her joy outshone her fear. All she had to dwell on was the fact that light was finally being shone into the dark places. Casting the patronus was second-nature at that point. The wolf waited for her message. Time was running out. The way it seemed to bounce from foot to foot in its impatience was another reminder she couldn't waste another second.
"I'm in trouble. I'm trapped inside my house with no way out and there's someone here to hurt me. Please come as quickly as you can. I don't know how long I can fight."
The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs in the same moment her patronus sped off towards its destination. Another wave of relief washed over Hermione. If it was possible, she might soon have an ally fighting at her side. As long as she could keep fighting and stay alive just a little bit longer, she might have a real chance. It might have been delusion or madness, but her confidence was high. If Harry Potter could escape certain death as many times as he did as a child and teenager, it wasn't unreasonable to think it might be possible for her to live another day. Hermione raised her wand in front of her face, ready to fight.
"Good evening, Hermione. I was a bit surprised that you chose to come back here tonight, but I'm very pleased you did. It's been rather tedious trying to figure out where you've been hiding."
Of all of the possibilities of the person who would step into her kitchen to kill her, Hermione would've put Kingsley Shacklebolt somewhere down at the very bottom of the list. Years earlier during the war when they fought together on the back of the same thestral, she naïvely believed that he was one of the few people alive she could trust with her life. She didn't want to believe what she was seeing at first. Maybe she really was more injured in her fight with Silas than she realized. It wasn't until she saw Kingsley's familiar smile that she knew she wasn't hallucinating.
"Well, you found me. I must say that I wasn't expecting it to be you."
"No, I suppose you weren't, but there's a lot you don't understand. A lot you should've just left well enough alone."
Kingsley's tone was deceptively calm. Even though he held his wand in his hand, it hung loosely at his side. An outsider might not sense the danger, but Hermione knew exactly what the man was capable of. Years as an auror meant he could be ready to fight without thought.
"You knew about 'Operation Moonlight' before I came to your office to ask you about it that first time, didn't you?"
"Of course I knew about it. I knew all about it. Do you think it could've continued without the full knowledge and cooperation of the Minister for Magic?"
His reasons for confiscating her evidence and forbidding her to continue researching made a painful sort of logic. It bothered her that he'd been so convincing in his lies that he didn't know anything. What else had he lied to her about in the over a decade they'd been friends? She couldn't trust anything he'd ever said. A knot in her stomach twisted. He'd been such a stabilizing figure in her life. After her parents died unexpectedly, he'd been so kind to her, even helping her plan their service. How could all of that have been for nothing?
"Why would you give me permission to search for it in the archives or let me in the Restricted Section if you didn't want me to know about it?"
"Because I knew you wouldn't give up until you found out everything you could. Denying your request would've only made you more determined to keep searching. I had to give you something. Besides, you weren't supposed to actually find anything useful."
"That's why you looked so startled when I showed you the evidence I found."
"Well, yes. The archives were supposed to have been cleared out of any incriminating evidence. Where did you find that?"
Hermione didn't want to reveal the truth. At least not immediately. She was hardly in a position where she could just start giving away secrets that had the potential to delay her painful death just a little bit longer. If Kingsley was curious enough, he wouldn't kill her until he had all of the answers he wanted. He could be just as relentlessly curious as she could be.
"It doesn't matter. All that matters is I did find it. Kingsley, how could you let this continue? How could you approve of it? They've been experimenting on humans for decades. Torturing them. Killing them. Many of them were children."
"It's all very complicated. Complicated, but necessary. You should've left it all alone."
"It's wrong, Kingsley."
"You were given plenty of warnings to stop digging. I gave you chance after chance to leave it alone. It's your fault that you're going to end up dead."
There was a coldness in his voice she'd never heard before. Reminding her so calmly of the fact that she was going to die wasn't the Kingsley she loved. What happened to him when she wasn't looking? Had he always been like that but more able to hide it? Hermione willed the tears away that threatened to fill her eyes. She didn't want him to see her weakness. He wasn't worth it.
"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to be the one to get my hands dirty, but what is that old saying? 'If you want something done right, do it yourself.' I ordered Crump to do it a week ago, but you know, I think he's been fighting his Imperius. I hate when they do that."
"Silas? You're the reason he tried to kill me?"
"Oh excellent. He tried." Kingsley made a dramatic show of rolling his eyes. "I'm glad to hear he got close enough to you to try. He's had plenty of chances. Were you aware that he's had a bit of a crush on you for years?"
Hermione shook her head. That was certainly news to her. She'd been under the assumption that she annoyed the man.
"He likes to pretend he's angry with the Ministry just to seek you out. I thought he'd find you eventually, but looks like he was fighting the curse and avoiding you."
Now she understood Silas' wide, panicked eyes. When he arrived at Fenrir's to pass the night of the Full Moon in a safe, secure place, he never expected she would be there. If he was under the Imperius Curse and ordered to kill her, he must've been fighting the urge the entire time he was there. It was no wonder he couldn't speak. Once he transformed it became impossible for him to combat the curse. That was why he fought and struggled to leave the gold necklace inside. Without it he never would've been able to get to her. He would've been stuck on the other side of the wards until he was fully human and able to fight again. She desperately hoped Fenrir didn't kill him.
"You were the one who gave him the necklace, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was. Handy little trinket. Crump's bloody terrible at breaking through wards. How he's ever made any success as a thief is beyond me. I made sure he had it and ordered him to wear it at all times. I knew you would make your wards even stronger after you killed the Muggle. They were impressive enough the first time. He wouldn't be able to get into your house otherwise. That's where I assumed he would corner you."
"Are you the one who cast the Imperius Curse on the Muggle?"
Kingsley laughed. There was a time she used to like the sound. It had been soothing and even usually made her laugh too. Hearing it again after knowing what he was responsible for chilled her blood. How could she have been so wrong about a person she'd considered a friend for years?
"Word of advice, though it won't help you now. Don't ever tell Iain a secret. He's rubbish at keeping them. Ran straight to me after he found out you'd been attacked in the street. Wanted permission to set up a guard for your protection. Lovesick fool."
Iain could frustrate Hermione faster than anyone else she had ever known. What made for excellent chemistry in the bedroom often made for anxiety and anger everywhere else. But as much as he annoyed her, she knew without a doubt that he was a good man. All he ever wanted to do was help people. He would stop at nothing to protect someone he loved or cared about. Maybe he wasn't the most socially adept and could let all of the worst traits Gryffindors were known for overpower him, but she knew his heart was in the right place. She wished she'd been kinder to him in recent days when he was only worried about her. If she made it out of the impossible predicament she was in alive, she would seek him out to apologize for being so dismissive when he truly was scared.
"You were already becoming a bit of a nuisance at that point. I was intrigued to hear you had a Muggle stalker. I went to your house late that night and found him waiting outside, watching your house. If you were attacked and killed by a Muggle with a history of attacking you, I wouldn't be suspected. Didn't take much effort to put him under the Imperius Curse, even less to keep it hidden. There are certain perks to being the Minister. I ordered the Muggle to stay hidden until I was ready to remove your wards."
"You did that?"
"I did. Waited until very late when I knew you'd be asleep. Of course I didn't expect you to be able to fight him off."
"I didn't. I wasn't alone."
There seemed to be no reason to tell a lie in that moment. If Kingsley was being honest finally, so could she. Some of what happened that night began to make more sense the more she learned. The Muggle must've already seen Fenrir standing outside keeping watch. That was likely why he didn't try to break into her house on his own after she hit him with the wine bottle. Kingsley didn't come to investigate himself until after she'd asked Fenrir to stay inside. What would've happened if Kingsley realized Fenrir was still alive?
Hearing she wasn't alone in her house that night seemed to take Kingsley by surprise. Did he believe she was more alone than she was? She knew that she had a bad habit of isolating herself from her friends and burying herself in work. Clearly he thought no one would miss her. His smile faltered for just a moment before he shook his head and laughed.
"An unfortunate oversight, but not one that ultimately matters. I'm terribly sorry to have to kill you, Hermione. I really am, but I can't afford to let what you've discovered get out to the public. There are many secrets tied to it that will be revealed."
"Too late."
Those two words changed the entire atmosphere of her house the very second they were uttered. Spoken louder and in a much stronger voice than she anticipated, Hermione didn't cower away from her confession. She was proud of what she accomplished. Kingsley, however, was angry. His nostrils flared and his teeth clenched.
"What did you do, Hermione?"
"Right before I got here I was at an owlery posting over a hundred parcels to various people I thought might be interested in knowing about 'Operation Moonlight'. Every esteemed member of the Wizengamot should be receiving theirs any second. I sent others to several other prominent members of society." She laughed. "Even you. I also sent them to multiple countries. Several, in fact, to the MACUSA. Did you know there were children in the sixties who were kidnapped from all over the world, exposed to a deadly virus, and if they survived, were locked in a room with a werewolf to be bitten? I made sure the heads of the governments of every country a child was stolen from received one too. Seemed only right."
Kingsley's hand fisted the end of his wand. Red sparks shot out of it every few seconds. Trying very hard to keep his breathing under control, the wizard took several deep breaths. Hermione could feel her own heart racing. She tried to ignore the trembling in her wand arm. If he sensed weakness, he would exploit it to his benefit.
"What was in the parcels?"
"A copy of the evidence I gave you. I kept the originals in a safe place. I also included a thorough report about what I've been able to learn so far about the program, but I made sure to explain that I've only scratched the surface. Thanks to Silas attacking me earlier this evening, I was also able to find definitive proof that the program is still active. Also, before he died Lyall Lupin sent me a full confession. I made a copy for each parcel."
She'd never seen Kingsley so angry. Not even when they were at Hogwarts together fighting in the final battle. He was frightening. Even just being able to complete auror training meant that a person had to possess a certain amount of strength and power. To spend decades in the auror department and survive fighting in wars gave him an edge that she didn't have. She was still relying on help to come to her aid. Without it, she knew she wouldn't last long against Kingsley. Still, she found it encouraging that she didn't actually fear the wizard. She felt a certain amount of righteous anger that buoyed her spirits and boosted her confidence.
"Did you kill Lyall yourself or have one of your minions do it?"
"Does it matter?"
"I would think so. Wasn't Remus one of your best friends? What do you think he would think about you being responsible for his father's murder?"
Kingsley clenched his jaw harder. The red sparks fell out of the wand in a faster frequency. He took another step in her direction. Mentioning Remus struck a chord. One thing she learned early on as a Gryffindor was they were almost entirely driven by their emotions. She'd seen it in her two best friends and especially in herself. Though she could rely on logic when it was necessary, emotion and the knowledge that what she was doing was the right thing to do, usually helped further her cause. Fighting with emotion could make a person more powerful. It could also, however, make them more vulnerable, sloppier. If she could get Kingsley to drop the calm, cool, collected auror persona he'd cultivated for the majority of his life, she might have a shot at staying alive.
"What do you think Remus would think about 'Operation Moonlight'? Do you suppose he would've made a fine candidate? 'Operation Moonlight' is directly responsible for turning him into a werewolf. You realize that, right? Don't you feel the slightest bit responsible for what happened to him? How many others ended up just like him because of you?"
"You don't understand what you're talking about, Hermione. This goes much deeper than you realize."
For the first time, he actually looked scared. What could possibly make the Minister for Magic scared? She tried to ignore the sudden rush of fear that she had as well. If he was only part of the conspiracy, what was the rest? Even if she managed to survive that night would she always be forced to keep looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life? That seemed no way to live.
"You meddlesome bitch! If that information gets out…"
"It already has. It's over, Kingsley."
"No, it's not over. It's only just beginning."
For yet another time that night, instinct took over Hermione's body. Desperate to stay alive in terrifying circumstances, she knew she wouldn't be able to think her way through. Kingsley's first curse was deflected off a shield she brought up at the last second. His second bounced off another. Stuck in the back of the kitchen near a door that couldn't be open, she knew that if she allowed him to keep moving towards her, she would be trapped. There would be no werewolf ready to pounce to save her that time.
She didn't want to actually kill Kingsley. Even if it seemed ridiculous and naïve, she still cared about him. He deserved a cell in Azkaban and a trial to expose his part in the crimes to the world, but she didn't think he deserved death. It wasn't her place to make that decision. If it came down to her life or his, she was prepared to make the tough decision. She only hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Remembering the night everything she owned was broken and vandalized, Hermione called forth the spell Fenrir used to bring every piece of broken crockery into the air at the same time to repair itself and then zoom back into its proper cupboard. Using it in reverse, she was able to empty the cupboards of its contents. Plates, glasses, pots, pans, everything she rarely used to cook flew towards the wizard in a thick mass. The first pieces he was able to block with a shield; the next he shattered before they got near. When they all worked in orchestra together, he had to pause to cover his head with his arms. It was just enough of a moment of distraction that Hermione was able to run out of the room right past him.
Foolishly hoping that the front door wouldn't be affected by whatever containment wards he'd used on the house, she tried it to be safe. Just like the back door it wouldn't budge. No hole could be blasted through the door either. She struggled with one of the windows. Nothing. There was no escape. Until she had a few quiet, uninterrupted minutes to try to bring down the wards herself, she would have to fight. Somehow she doubted Kingsley would leave her alone long enough.
Fighting in her own home and knowing that it was for her very life did give Hermione the slightest edge. Once he was free from the mass of dishes and pots, Kingsley followed her into the living room. He laughed when he saw all of the furniture stacked in a barricade. It wouldn't take him long to smash through it, but seconds mattered. She hadn't given up hope yet that her patronus reached its intended target.
"You're not going to win against me, Hermione. I don't even know why you're trying. Your strengths are research and nagging everyone around you about what they should be doing. Not fighting."
She couldn't argue with him even if his nagging comment hit a little below the belt. There was a reason she chose to go back to Hogwarts when the war was over instead of becoming an auror. She'd been invited to skip straight to auror training, but the idea of having a life where she continually chased dark wizards and witches filled her with a crushing depression she couldn't shake. Why would she want to continue hunting with the war over and Voldemort dead? She never could understand what insanity made Harry choose that career path. Didn't he ever get tired of fighting?
"If you hadn't stolen the evidence and owled it around the world, we might've been able to come to some sort of agreement. Your life for your silence."
"I may not be a fighter, Kingsley, but I'm also not stupid."
The barricade of all of her living room furniture erupted in a shower of splinters and upholstery fluff. If she'd been foolish enough to hide behind it, her body would be riddled with wooden shrapnel. Frustrated that his curse didn't injure her, Kingsley missed her hex straight at his back. Designed only to temporarily restrict an opponent's airways, it was made to harm, but not kill. She would fight Kingsley, but she would not kill him. If Fenrir was correct that every kill settled on your soul, she would do whatever was necessary to keep her soul intact. Harry defeated the so-called Dark Lord using a disarming spell. It was Voldemort who ultimately killed himself.
"Clever… trick hiding… back there, but… you should've cast an avada."
Just as Kingsley caught his breath he cast another nasty curse in her direction. A shield charm and a drop to the floor prevented it from making its mark. Hermione was surprised to see that no green light had come out of his wand yet. Why wasn't he just using the killing curse? He already admitted he wanted her dead. Surely if the Minister was able to cover-up his use of the Imperius Curse, hiding another Unforgivable wasn't impossible. Did he mean it when he announced he would kill her?
She got her definitive answer shortly after asking herself the difficult question. Kingsley might be avoiding using an avada, but he had every intention of killing her all the same. Was he trying to make her death seem like an accident? Most of the spells he used were generally used for defense, not offense. No less effective at causing injury, there were better spells he could've used to finish the duel faster. She couldn't match his skill nor his experience and she was already exhausted from her fight with Silas. If she didn't stop using magic soon to recharge, she was in serious danger of magical exhaustion. In the very worst case scenarios, the effects were permanent.
Knowing all of the potential hiding places in her home gave Hermione a slight advantage. More than once Kingsley was certain his spell was going to hit her, she was able to move out of the way in the last second. He grew more frustrated as she grew more tired and much weaker. When the war ended, she hoped to never have to duel another powerful wizard or witch again. Especially against an auror, she didn't like her odds.
"If you want me dead so badly, Kingsley, why haven't you killed me yet?"
The Minister was amused by her spirit. Casting another hex in the dark corner she was in, he laughed even as it was made clear he missed her again. She was beginning to loathe the very sound. No doubt in years to come, assuming she had them, it would haunt her nightmares.
"An Imperius Curse cast on a Muggle is a much easier Unforgivable to explain away. Especially if you're the Minister and there's a certain witch in the Improper Use of Magic office who has fancied you for years. One satisfying shag on top of my desk was all it took to get the head of the office to suppress the infraction. A couple more further ensured her loyalty and silence. No one can hide an avada, I'm afraid."
"And even the Minister's wand is subject to search with Prior Incantato during a murder investigation."
She longed to curse him right in his perfectly straight, white teeth. What was there to smile about? Was the wizard some sort of sociopath and she never realized?
"Clever girl. Yes, you're right. When war heroine and the Chosen One's best friend Hermione Granger's broken body is discovered, there will be an uproar. I'm sure Harry himself will insist on conducting a full and thorough investigation. I can't have it look like I was the aggressor, now can I? Too many uncomfortable questions will be asked and since I already have to clean up the mess you created mailing out the evidence, I'm going to be rather busy. Can't afford to be suspected of murdering you. It must look like an accident or the result of a defensive spell that was just a little too strong."
His arrogant wish to explain what he'd done and why he'd done it offered Hermione a wealth of information. Just like a Gryffindor with his pride, he couldn't bear to sit back without her knowing. He was the very epitome of the evil villain. She wondered what would happen if she stopped fighting altogether. Would it work? Would it make him stop too because he could no longer hide what he was trying to accomplish? As exhausted as she was both physically and magically, she was curious to try. Up until the moment his powerful shield charm actually slammed her entire body against the wall that is. Her sore head ached. Too many more bashes to the skull and there would be nothing left inside.
"All you had to do was stop searching. Why couldn't you stop?"
No spell she knew could break the shield. It was too powerful. With each step Kingsley made in her direction, the pressure tightened on her chest. If he got much closer she could soon be struggling for air. The shield kept her wand arm plastered to the wall. All she could do was cast spells at her own feet. Maybe if she hadn't fought a full-grown werewolf just a couple of hours earlier she would've had more strength in her to keep fighting. There was a point everyone reached where they could go no further. She hated admitting even just to herself that Kingsley was only a matter of seconds away from breaking her, but she couldn't deny he was a superior opponent. Everyone met their end at some point. At least she could feel like her death meant something. Not everyone could say the same.
"You're going to die and you didn't have to. I thought you were smarter than that."
Kingsley was close enough she could feel his breath on her face. He was the perfect example of a beautiful monster. Everyone expected the broken and deformed and hideous to be the dangerous ones, but even Kingsley's breath smelled fresh. No one would've ever guessed what he was capable of. He'd fooled them all. He lifted his wand, pointing it at her chest. The shield pressed harder against her lungs, stealing the last of her air. How terribly ironic that nearly the same spell saved her life against Silas. Even in her physical distress she had to smile.
"Why couldn't you have just stopped looking? You shouldn't be…"
His next statement was cut off by the deafening sound of an explosion. Distracted by a shower of glass, wood, and masonry flying through the room, Kingsley's shield slipped. Not enough to free Hermione, but just enough that she could suck in a big gulp of air. Chaos ensued. Two figures burst through the hole in the side of her house casting spells at them both. It was too dark to see who they were and the lights from their wands were blinding. Was she saved or just in even more danger? Kingsley was encapsulated in a silvery web. His wand flew out of his hand to his great anger. No longer under his shield, Hermione crumpled to the floor. She felt her wand leave her grip at the same moment she was surrounded by her own silvery web.
"What the fuck? Harry, it's Kingsley."
She knew that voice. Knew that voice very well. Both frightened and terribly confused, the professional auror persona Iain usually employed when he was working was nowhere to be found. The pain in her lungs was nearly paralyzing, but she forced herself to turn over so she could get up on her knees. Standing seemed like an impossibility.
"Kingsley, what is happening? Did you see who attacked Hermione? Where are they?"
Even when faced with the physical evidence that one of his dear friends and mentors wasn't who he claimed to be, Harry struggled to believe it. Sometimes he could be far too trusting.
"Arrest her! She tried to kill me."
"I did not!"
Neither of the aurors seemed to know what to do next. They were in an unusual and difficult position. Who could they trust? Before they arrived, they both would've been able to say without reservation that they trusted both of them. Hermione began to feel a panic start deep in her gut. Kingsley couldn't kill her where there were witnesses, but he could certainly arrange from some horrible accident to befall her after she was in custody. It would quite literally be a matter of life and death if she couldn't somehow convince the two duty-bound aurors to go against the command from the Minister.
"Hermione, love, what's happening?"
There was real fear in Iain's voice. Kingsley scoffed.
"Isn't it obvious, Iain? The little tart sent me an owl inviting me over to share a bottle of wine. You can't really blame me for falling for the cheap trick. I'm just a man after all. I know what a witch wants when she sends a wizard an owl after midnight and it's not conversation."
Hermione was horrified with how easily the lies dripped off Kingsley's silver tongue. They weren't going to actually believe them, were they? It was positively scandalous. There'd never been any sort of inappropriate relationship between them.
"When I arrived, she warded the house so I couldn't get out. I simply thought she was playing a game. She can be rather creative at times. I'm sure you know that all too well, Iain. Remember that night in my office, Hermione, when you pretended to be the Minister for Magic and I was the forgetful assistant?"
"That's a lie!"
"She tried to hex me. I blocked them all, but then she got angry and more hostile. You can check my wand. I only used defensive spells against her."
Hermione was positive she'd never been so angry in her entire life. Being called a liar was insulting enough, but to have him try to convince Harry and Iain that he was the one that had been in danger? It was too much. Surely they could see through his lies.
Except Harry had a job to do that he took very seriously. He couldn't allow his personal feelings for either party to get in the way of conducting a proper investigation. Removing Kingsley's wand out of Iain's hand, he cast a Prior Incantatoto see that in one way at least, Kingsley was telling the truth. Defensive spell after defensive spell echoed out of his wand. A shield charm repeated itself over and over again, seeming to prove he'd been the one under attack. With each passing moment, Harry looked sicker and sicker. She knew he didn't want to believe Kingsley. Evidence, in his auror's mind, didn't lie.
"Harry, why would I send you a patronus telling you I was in danger and trapped if I lured Kingsley here to kill him? Why would I want to kill him?"
Before Harry could utter a word, Kingsley spoke for him. He was so confident in his answers, she really did want to kill him when he was finished. How could she have misjudged the man so completely?
"I would assume 'plausible deniability' for the first question. Make Harry believe you're being attacked so when he arrived either you could explain it was self-defense if I was dead or you might've hoped Harry would 'curse first, ask questions second'. If you failed to kill me, maybe he would do it for you. Very clever plan."
"You can't really believe this, can you, Harry?"
"And then for the second question, I would assume that she wants to kill me because she's gotten herself entangled with some very dangerous people who want to spread scurrilous lies about the Ministry. What better way to do that than to make it appear as if the Minister for Magic tried to kill her? An ambitious, but ridiculous plan if you ask me."
There was a real fear that Kingsley's story would be believed. On the surface it certainly sounded like it made sense. The evidence with the wand backed it up. Both men might have been close friends and more with Hermione in the past, but they knew Kingsley too. Just like she had never had reason to doubt his integrity before that night, they believed him to be an honorable man. What were they going to do?
She turned her attention towards Iain. If he really loved her like he always claimed he did, he should be able to tell just by looking in her eyes that she was telling the truth. When their eyes met, she could see how torn he was. As much as he loved her once upon a time, Kingsley had also been one of his dearest friends. They'd fought side by side together countless times before and after the war. She knew there were few people alive that Iain admired half as much as Kingsley. Something of a mentor to him when he started his auror training, they'd been through a lot together.
"Iain, you know me. I don't want to kill anyone. I was just trying to help. He's involved in something terrible. Remember me asking you about 'Operation Moonlight'?"
"Ignore her lies, Proudfoot. She's just using you. She's always just used you when she needed you and ignored you when she didn't."
It was low to poke at a person's insecurities, but Kingsley proved that night he wasn't who she thought he was. She wouldn't tear her eyes away from Iain's. Desperately she wished that he'd been more patient when he tried to learn Legilimency years earlier. If he had, maybe he could've seen that she was telling the truth. Only a sharp burst of pain in her head kept her from keeping eye contact. There could be no doubt that she had another concussion. Would they even provide her medical care if she was arrested?
"Harry, I believe Hermione."
Iain moved towards his ex-girlfriend, but before he could get very far, he was stopped by Kingsley's booming voice shouting out another order.
"If you take another step closer to her, Proudfoot, I'll have your badge and you'll be in the cell next to hers."
She couldn't blame him for stopping. Being an auror was the most important part of Iain's life. It was a big reason why their relationship never worked. Each of them knew they'd only ever be second to the other's career.
"We will get this all sorted out. I promise."
Harry had more confidence in his voice than she expected. At least he didn't sound like he thought she was the liar. She felt confident that as long as she was with Harry, she would be all right.
"Hermione… please forgive me."
There wasn't even time to be startled by the stunner Harry sent straight to her chest.